


Something Wrong?

by QuickSilverFox3



Series: Mag7 Summer Swagbag Challenge [12]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Competency, For the most part, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, POV Vasquez (The Magnificent Seven 2016), Pre-Relationship, Remix, vasquez brings all the girls and boys to the yard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25227991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Vasquez is good at his job, and looks good while doing it. Little does he know a call to fix some gutters will turn into a lot more.-“Um, can I help you?” The voice was a match, even sleep roughened as it currently was, and Vasquez felt himself relax minutely. He really didn’t want to go on a wild goose chase for some gutters, and this house fascinated him in it’s terrible glory. And the owner wasn’t too hard on the eyes either. Win-win for him.Vasquez grins, and lowers his sunglasses to give him a proper once over, delighting in the reflexive blush that decorated the man’s freckled cheeks.
Relationships: Joshua Faraday/Vasquez
Series: Mag7 Summer Swagbag Challenge [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789006
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63
Collections: Mag7 Summer Swagbag Challenge





	Something Wrong?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hazel_Athena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel_Athena/gifts).



> Format prompt: Remix an existing fanwork ([ This amazing fic plus a little bit of the fourth by Hazel_Athena!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9597179)  
> 

His phone buzzed against his leg — just once, so a text rather than a phone call that would need his immediate attention. It didn’t stop him from jumping in reflexive shock, head cracking against the underside of the sink he was working on, cold water cascading onto his head.

Biting back curses, he wrenched on the stubborn bolt again, his anger lending him the extra strength needed to finally close it. One hand pressed against the sore spot on the top of his head, Vasquez crawled out from beneath the sink, water soaking into his jeans. He’d been left a cup of coffee a while ago — too focused on the job at hand, and too jammed beneath a sink to retrieve it — so he took a cautious sip now, pulling his phone from his pocket. 

The coffee was still barely warm but he drank it eagerly, mouth dry and head pounding, raising his phone up like a salutation to peer at the text.

‘Hermosa jefe,’ it read and Vasquez frowned for a fraction of a second before remembering. Emma Cullen, good lady, good fun with a pretty husband and a take-no-shit sort of attitude. It was a slightly awkward angle to bring the full text up as he finished draining the cup, but he managed.

‘I’ve given my neighbour your number. Play nice.’

Several thoughts slammed into Vasquez’s head at once, all clamouring to be heard, but he only winced at the sudden spike of pain. Focus on finishing this job now, wonder about the text later. It normally took people a few hours to get in contact with him, whether for the first time or the seventh, always so confident in their own abilities. He had time.

“I’m finished with the sink!” he called upstairs in case anyone was still in the house. A ringing silence greeted his words, and he laughed, shaking his head.

Mrs Miller had mentioned that she would be going out earlier, and Vasquez had done enough jobs for her to know where she left his pay. The stairs creaked beneath his boots, and he made a mental note to check in on her later on, knowing it would weigh on his mind to leave it unfinished.

The door stuck slightly as he pulled it closed behind him, phone case clenched in his teeth as he fished for his keys with his other hand. He’d definitely be back out before the week was through. 

Vasqeuz climbed back into his truck before he let his thoughts return to Emma’s cryptic text message. A new neighbour? Knowing Emma, that could mean anywhere from the house next door to her — Vasquez ignored the itching in his fingers at the thought of finally getting his hands on  _ that _ house — to a house three streets away. He stared at his phone, willing this mysterious stranger to call him before he started driving home, hoping that the stars would align. But it was no use, his phone remained stubbornly dark, and remained so until he was halfway across his house, midway through scrubbing at a stubborn spot on his pan and singing his heart out when he heard the familiar ring tone when he paused for breath.

Shit.

He dropped the pan back into the sink, and bolted for his phone, slowing to a walk a few steps away. Vasqeuz forced his breathing to slow, hands steady when he reached for the phone.

“Vasquez,” he greeted, a grin slipping across his face at the intake of breath at the other end, mind already running wild.

“Oh,” the man on the other end said, surprised and almost flustered, Vasquez was grinning fully, an expression his sisters would always scold him for even as eyes turned towards him. “Uh, sorry. Emma Cullen gave me this number, she says you do work around houses?”

Emma Cullen’s mysterious neighbour, who Vasquez was to ‘play nice’ with. And he was nothing, if not a perfect gentleman, but the temptation was just too great.

““Si, you could say that,” Vasquez replied, not bothering to hide his laughter, “Did you need something in particular, or were you just calling to confirm what you were told?”

“Obviously I need something done. Why else would I be calling you?” The man’s annoyance was as clear as day, ringing like a bell through each syllable spat out like machine gun fire.

Vasquez couldn’t hold back a snicker. He was having too much fun. “I don’t know. You called me, remember?” 

There was a telling silence on the other end, extending for long enough that Vasqeuz was considering texting Emma to explain he had broken her neighbour when the other man spoke, forced calm in every word despite their faint muffled quality, “The gutters of my house are clogged. I’m wondering if you’d be kind enough to do something about it, at whatever your going rate is, of course.”

To business it was. Vasquez felt his spine straighten, eyes darting from side to side as if he could see the gutters before him. There’d been some bad weather recently, so he was quickly becoming proficient in gutters, building up a strong client base little by little.

““Gutters, is it? I can do gutters. What’s the address?”

His eyes widened when he heard the address, and hopped onto the arm of the sofa — ignoring the memory of his mother’s voice in his head at his actions — pulling his diary towards him, scanning over his schedule with quick, mechanical precision.

““So that’s how you know Emma then. I’ve done work on her place before. I know the area. Does tomorrow work for you?”

“Tomorrow’s fine. Do I need to do anything for you beforehand? Sign some paperwork or something?”

Adorable. Vasquez laughed once more, shaking his head although he knew the other man couldn’t see him. “I’m not running an operation that fancy. I’ll poke my head in when I get there so you know what I’m doing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right,” said the other man, and that was that. Vasquez added him into his book, and set it back down, returning to his kitchen and continuing his serenade.

⁂

Vasquez knocked on the door again, frown deepening as it failed to open. Leaning back, he inspected the number next to the door as if it was mocking him. He knew he had the right house, knew he had definitely said he’d be by so why—

The door swung open and Vasqeuz quirked his head to one side as he studied the occupant of the house. The man looked tired, blonde hair half turned to brown except where it caught the morning sunlight was askew, sections sticking out as if it had a mind of its own. He had only blinked at Vasquez when he first opened the door, yawning widley and covering it with the back of his hand when he froze, wheels visibly spinning behind his eyes.

He was wearing a faded Hello Kitty shirt, loose around the collar with the image almost faded to the point of illegibility, with a pair of ragged blue pyjama bottoms. He did not look like a man expecting company. Maybe Vasqeuz did have the wrong house?

“Um, can I help you?” The voice was a match, even sleep roughened as it currently was, and Vasquez felt himself relax minutely. He really didn’t want to go on a wild goose chase for some gutters, and this house fascinated him in it’s terrible glory. And the owner wasn’t too hard on the eyes either. Win-win for him.

Vasquez grins, and lowers his sunglasses to give him a proper once over, delighting in the reflexive blush that decorated the man’s freckled cheeks.

“Morning, guero. I think you said something about needing your gutters cleaned?”

The man’s flush only deepend, turning his cheeks a delicious shade of pink. He scrubs a hand over his face, Vasquez only able to see the faintest twitch of his eye as he thought.

“The ladder’s over there somewhere,” He waved an arm vaguely towards one side of the house, “and I figure you can find the gutters without my help.”

Oh this was going to be fun. People so rarely bit back, but Vasquez was going to win this battle.

“I’m sure I can. Why don’t you go back to bed? You look like you need it.”

The man wanted to flip him off, the desire painted as clear as day in his eyes that turned as sharp as flint, but he settled for closing the door in Vasqeuz’s face, allowing him to muffle his laughter as he turned and got to work. And if he took off his shirt when he knew he’d be in front of the living room windows, that was no-one’s business but his own.

Judging by Emma Cullen’s sudden appearance, waving cheerily to him as she pretended to slowly look for her paper, all but setting up a deck chair to eye him up, Vasquez knew his plan was working. He knew he did his job well, and what harm was a little fun along the way? He ignored the forming stirring of interest in the pit of his stomach, the little what-ifs that crowded in the corners of his mind and focused on his job. That was all that mattered. The mysterious guero and his house — a nightmare Vasquez knew would be haunting his nightmares now he had seen it up close — were just a job, nothing more.

⁂

Vasquez had never been happier to be proved wrong. He pressed a kiss to the top of Faraday’s head, his  _ fiancé  _ letting out a quiet grumble in his sleep and shifting closer, fingers twitching in Vasquez’s loose grip. 

The pressure of hisengagement ring was welcome, if foreign, on his hand, and Vasquez felt a pulse of love in his chest, and settled down to sleep, happy and content and very determinedly ignoring the knowledge of the fresh burn marks on their table downstairs.


End file.
